The Balcony Scene
by Distempered
Summary: Because our Romeo and Juliet need their own balcony scene. DG. Really, really light M. More like a harder T.


**Disclaimer and Note: **Not J.K. Rowling, but thanks for asking. This story is actually a really light, light R, so if you don't like to read R stories, don't worry, it's not too bad. Hope you enjoy.

_A collection of five 200-word drabbles._

**THE BALCONY SCENE**

_one/but soft, what light through yonder window breaks_

The balcony rail was mahogany, and as Ginny gripped it so tightly that her knuckles turned white, she could feel the old, rich, heaviness deep within it. It struck her as grossly out of place, though why, she could not tell. All she had were feelings now, anyway; all she had left were straight-forward, absolute, primal feelings: anger, shame, hurt, despair, and the deepest of sorrows.

It wasn't that Ginny didn't appreciate Harry's sacrifice. He had been right; their relationship would have been too dangerous. It would have been used against Harry -- as Ron's relationship with him had been. Now Ron was dead, but for all Ginny knew, so was she. She certainly didn't feel very alive.

Harry had left after it was all over, and despite his promise to return to them someday, Ginny got the feeling that it was empty. He was just saying what she wanted to hear. She didn't really blame him for wanting out, but she had wondered why he wouldn't take her with him. The answer was of course that she reminded him of Ron, but she didn't want to hear it.

All she wanted now was for Draco to just come outside.

_two/the more is my unrest_

Draco called it organized chaos, and it surprised most people to know that he lived that way. From the impeccable way he kept his appearance, most expected much of the same in his personal space. Rather, though, he had piles of clothing, books all over the floor, and papers everywhere -- stuck to the walls and thrown in haphazard piles on his bed.

He caught Ginny in his room one night. It was just days after Harry had left them, and he found her sitting on his bed, reading. She looked very small in the middle of his bed. She looked up at him with an unreadable expression. _I didn't know that you were so smart_, she had said, gesturing at the pile of papers. His answer was a petulant "sod off," though as soon as he'd said it, he regretted it. But, he couldn't bring himself to apologize. Ginny threw the stack of papers at him and left the room as quickly as she could. Draco was sure that he heard her starting to cry as she brushed past him. It still bothered him, though why, he didn't know.

He expected to find her out there, waiting for him.

_three/I'll prove more true than those that have cunning to be strange_

Ginny could smell him before she saw him. She could always tell when he was near because the acrid stench of death followed him everywhere he went -- though Ginny thought she was the only one who sensed it. She caught his scent and shivered lightly.

"I need something from you," she said after just breathing to get the taste of death out of her mouth. He didn't answer, so she continued. "I need you to shag me. I need it, and there's only you." She spoke like the words were killing her. "Don't make me beg," she added, barely above a whisper.

Ginny expected him to mock her, call her disgusting for her request, but he didn't. Instead, he looked out over the grounds.

"I never imagined my life like this. Never. I plotted and planned it out -- this," he gestured uselessly around them, "was not included."

Ginny smiled despite herself. "I know," she said, "I read your notes."

He turned to look at her, and she wondered if he was going to apologize. "This is going to change a lot of things, you know," he said seriously, voice sharp as a knife, and Ginny understood.

"I know."

_four/my only love sprung from my only hate_

Her back arched off the ground as he teased her to the height of passion. He then poised himself over her, his face taking on a strange gentleness that she never would have thought him capable of.

"Is this your --"

"No," she interrupted, the word coming out a sharp gasp. "I want you to take me."

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

"Hurt me! I need to feel something!" she cried out, pulling him closer.

Draco's expression became closed off. "I refuse to be revenge…I've had enough of vengeance to last my whole life."

"Malfoy, please. This isn't revenge. I want this…you," she begged him.

Draco closed his eyes, seemingly warring with himself, but he then plunged inside her. Ginny cried out in sharp pain. He waited a few moments for her to acclimate to the sensation , and when she had indicated that it hurt no longer, he thrust into her, pace even and incredibly gentle.

He wouldn't look at her, keeping his eyes lightly closed. Ginny could see his eyelids fluttering, and she found herself longing to see his grey eyes boring into her own. "Look at me, Draco," she whispered.

Draco opened his eyes.

_five/a pair of star cross'd lovers take their life_

Draco wasn't sure why he allowed it to happen. He normally had total control over his emotions.

Ginny's breathing was slowing back to normal, and before he could stop himself, Draco ran a hand up her cheek and swept her hair back from her forehead. His thumb brushed gently across her lip, and Ginny kissed it lightly. Ginny then leaned up to kiss his lips, but he moved quickly to get up.

Stiff-backed and proud was her last image of him as he crossed the threshold back into the house, no doubt to lock himself in his room again. She hadn't expected him to stay out there with her and had no desire to make him feel obligated.

It was only a moment, really; a sense-memory for the future so that every time she caught the scent of salt, copper, and death, she would remember him.

Ginny wasn't sure what to do with herself then, so she climbed on the balcony railing and sat down, her legs dangling over the side.

"I wonder what it would be like to be a cloud," she said.

"I imagine it would be quite insubstantial," replied Draco, but she never heard him say it.

_For never was a tale of more woe  
Than that of Juliet and her Romeo._

Fin.


End file.
